


so was I

by avatarkadaj



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Friendship, i like to suffer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 17:25:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6338407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avatarkadaj/pseuds/avatarkadaj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They never were friends, were they? Tony reminiscences on a friendship they never had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so was I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AltFire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AltFire/gifts).



> Dedicated to my friend Kyle, who provided me the prompt (flashback) and @prettyworkboys (Ray). I also literally do not care for inaccuracies.

Steve panted, decked out in his Captain America armor. A spangly suit, Tony had called it years ago. It didn’t look so spangly anymore. It looked like a special operation soldier’s armor – a modern soldier, not the Man out of Time, not the man his father knew. The texture of Kevlar didn’t change even when you dyed it white and blue. He looked like a combatant – bruising around his eye, split lip distracting from his perfect teeth, and sweat dripping down the side of his face. He looked like a target, even without the mask to obscure his friendly features.

“I’m sorry, Tony –”

But he didn’t sound sorry. He only sounded tired, aided by the breathiness of exhaustion. There was no real apologism for his choices, for his actions – only weariness. For a soldier, he didn’t want to fight and the irony didn’t escape him. Tony’s expression hardened.

“You know I wouldn’t do this if I had any other choice.”

He didn’t know that. He didn’t know this man at all. Tony was supposed to trust him, trust him to stand by him and support him. Tony was supposed to rely on him and even be able to lay his life in his hands, knowing Steve would not let him down. This man wore Steve’s face and used his voice, but this wasn’t the man he thought he knew.

There was always a choice. That’s what Tony believed. There was always an answer, there was an equation to solve and there would be variables, choices to choose from. He climbed from rock bottom, from the mental pit of nothing, of problems like abuse and terrorism and he knew there was always a choice. No one was backed in a corner. There was a way out – a solution out of the cave. It spoke volumes to him that Steve felt there was none, that there was only _this._ Violence. In-fighting. Betrayal.

“But Bucky is my friend.”

There is such finality in his words – a definitive statement, unable to be swayed. Nothing will change his mind; not morals, not blood and violence, not death. It was all the morality, all the confidence and surety he needed; Bucky was his friend. Bucky was the one he would go the distance for. The one he loved the most. The words struck a nerve, hit somewhere deep in a way Tony didn’t think it would. He cocked his head up; the words replayed.

His voice came out duller, deader than he meant. The wind has been knocked out of him and he felt a darkness constrict around his throat. He locked eyes with Steve, knowing Steve can’t see him, can’t see the emotions in his dark eyes, can’t see his honesty.

“So was I.”

* * *

 

  1. A decrepit HYDRA base.



They took the mission because Steve needed it. HYDRA had been allowed to fester for decades while he slept in the ice; a ghost of an enemy that should have been long dead. Except it’s not a ghost, but something more sinister and powerful; a reincarnated vengeful spirit who won’t rest. For all the funding Tony provides and snarking he does to say he is in charge, he’s not. He gave that power over to Steve; it was a silent transfer, but they both knew Steve had the experience and personality better suited for leadership.

The mission had been simple: retrieve data, destroy the base and files. When SHIELD collapsed after the revelation of HYDRA swelling the ranks, corrupting the organization from the inside, all of their files had been dumped onto the Internet by Natasha. Every file SHIELD had on all of their projects – and that HYDRA had within them – had been exposed. For the most part, it was effective in ruining HYDRA’s plans because their intentions and criminal activities were blasted to the world. However, HYDRA was intelligent enough to not give all of their information to the SHIELD database; there was obscure, outdated, or otherwise hidden information sporadically hidden in their smaller locations around the world, supposedly for an event like this. Should they be exposed, they had other options, other information to turn to. Should they cut off the head, more would grow back in its place.

When HYDRA agents, underground guards over experiment and training files, swarmed out like rats, they were ready. The crew of six worked well together, pairing off into familiar fighting styles and plans of attack. They were organized and competent, hardly needing to say a word, save a word of warning. Tony and Steve stood nearly shoulder to shoulder, nearly touching as they covered the other.

Tony braved forward, clearing out an entrance for Steve to get what he needed. The others were too busy, too focused in their own tasks, and Steve couldn’t do it alone. He covered the doorway, taking the fire when he couldn’t block enough. It was a few minutes before Natasha fired shots from the back of the group. Aided by Clint, their movements nearly in sync, considering their differing weapons, they broke up the HYDRA squad. More accurately, they littered the basement floor with their bodies. Tony nodded his gratitude.

Steve rushed out, shouting he was clear. Excluding the Hulk and Thor, the team rushed out and away, allowing the powerful duo to destroy the inner workings of the base, rendering it useless to be reused. That is, assuming any HYDRA agent – or any other enemy to the Avengers – choose to attempt to return here.

When they’re back on the carrier, they broke off to destress, especially the newly-returned Bruce. He had his own private way of calming down, tailored to The Other Guy. Natasha and Clint strode down the hallway together, hands nearly brushing. They had years of practicing and cooling down together like a perfect machine. Thor chatted up crew members, discussing the advantages and losses – for all the jokes about him, he was a warrior and a tactician. Steve and Tony stood idle. Neither knew how the other destressed – and the truth was, neither of them did.

Tony was attempting to learn how because, after the months of panic attacks after the Battle of Manhattan leading to a diagnosis of post-traumatic stress disorder, it had been necessary. With so many evils in the world – always someone to fight, something to defend – he had turned back to his old habit of making the famous Iron Man suits. He had forgotten what Mark he was on. It didn’t matter. The drinking hadn’t returned, at least, in no significant way. He still was a social drinker, scotch remained his favorite, but it wasn’t debilitating him the way it once had. Pepper’s presence tended to help, but being several thousand miles away left him with no coping mechanisms. Meanwhile, Steve never seemed to unwind. Not that he ever seemed particularly tense, just serious. He took it all in stride, internalizing it. Tony could never decide if he managed to keep a breakdown under wraps or if he’d figured out how to deal with his trauma after all the time in the warzone. Either way it was admirable, but Tony never said so.

“Good on you today,” Steve said, breaking the silence with a glance to Tony.

Tony snorted, his mouth quirking into a quick smile. It was a mission. Nothing special in comparison to the other things he’d done. It wasn’t Manhattan or Afghanistan or Miami.

Steve faced him. “I mean it. Excellent work out there. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Tony wondered if he was intending to get an emotional reaction out of him. He kept a calm face. “It’s what we do. Anyway, you’re the one leading. Or am I in charge now?”

Steve lifted his mouth a little in a small smile, breathing a soft puff of air out of his nose. “Not a chance.”

Tony chuckled a little, easing into the banter. “There’s that good old-fashioned modesty.”

Steve smiled and put his hand on his shoulder, giving a gentle shake. Tony thought back to the reverse, years ago, on a different carrier, where Steve had brushed off his teasing hand on his shoulder with a stern expression. Things changed.

“Take the compliment. You did _good._ Believe me.”

His voice had lowered, more sincere. Steve dropped his hand and walked away when someone called for him from across the deck, leaving Tony alone. The smile on Tony’s mouth faded when Steve vanished from view. He hadn’t had anyone say something so sincerely – unprovoked – from someone he, begrudgingly, looked up to since Obadiah Stane. It made him feel conflicted and deep in a place he didn’t want to go right now. A place he didn’t intend to go, ever, if he could help it. Because that was easier, that took less out of him.

“Don’t kid yourself, Rogers. I’ll never be as good as you.”

* * *

 

“I’m sorry Tony. You know I wouldn’t do this if I had any other choice. But Bucky is my friend.”

Steve geared up to strike. Tony watched the arc of his body, the curve of arm and the hard lines of his face as he swung back for a punch and he can see it there. The truth. The reality.

_Bucky is my priority._

He understood then, what this was. This was never about morality, about implications of laws or ideology. It was about Bucky. It was about loyalty and friendship and things that he couldn’t fathom. Bucky was more important than anything. Bucky was the answer.

What Tony had forgotten was that some equations only have one answer. There are no other variables, only a solution. The answer is not always what you want. It might take multiple tries before seeing it, repeatedly seeing the wrong, misreading it. But the answer will be there.

_Bucky matters more than you. Bucky matters more than morality._

Tony charged his palm blaster, stepping back and bracing on his right leg. The faceplate hid his expression; wounded, determined, ready.

_We were never friends. I only thought we were._

“So was I.”


End file.
